


Candy Drops

by LyricDreamweaver



Series: 33 Ocassions for TF2 Guro [12]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: (at least a little bit), Hand Jobs, M/M, Necrophilia, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricDreamweaver/pseuds/LyricDreamweaver
Summary: He could just imagine the dopey half-grin on Scout's face when he revived him, the bright red around the throat he'd offered so willingly to the Medic, the reluctance to move from the doctor’s bed.





	Candy Drops

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda sorta prequel to "Stamen and Pistil."
> 
>  
> 
> ~~What is it with me and naming awful things after sugary things?~~

Scout was so lost in the sensation of slick rubber gloves fisting his cock it seemed he had forgotten all about the rough rope around his neck, hips jerking into the Medic's gloved fist. Medic, without an ounce of hesitation, kicked the stool out from under him, the scraping breaking the quiet sounds of Scout's swearing in the infirmary.

Scout dropped, though not far, not nearly enough to break his neck, which would have been merciful. His eyes widened in betrayal and fear, fingers clawing at the noose around his neck, gagging and half-retching in his struggle. Medic could almost hear the complaint in Scout’s stare.

_Doc, why’d you do that?_

For a terrifying moment, Medic was afraid someone would come investigate only to find Scout hanging with his trousers around his ankles and Medic himself with lube on his gloves and a sample jar nearby.

When no one burst into the infirmary, Medic stepped back as Scout began kicking at him, merely content to wait until Scout was unconscious to approach him again. He watched the runner's erection flag, smirking a bit. Perhaps he had much more endurance than they gave Scout credit for.

With his last bit of consciousness, Scout spit, saliva landing halfway between Medic and the runner. And Medic was almost impressed. He watched him go limp and gently pushed one of the runner's knees, watching him sway. It was almost graceful. 

With more lube, Medic put an arm around Scout's body to keep him from swaying too much. One hand ran up the length of the thigh before taking up the jar and Medic keeping the body's hip tucked in the crook of his arm, his other hand working on milking Scout's cock into the sample container. 

Medic turned his head, face pressed to Scout's shoulder, smelling death and blood and sweat on him and feeling his muscles relax through the thin fabric of his shirt.

It was almost a shame to have to kill him. He could just imagine the dopey half-grin on Scout's face when he revived him, the bright red around the throat he'd offered so willingly to the Medic, the reluctance to move from the doctor’s bed. He could just imagine hearing him whining about the developing soreness in his hips and neck. Such a shame.

_Doc, why’d you have to do that?_

Perhaps, after sending Scout through Respawn, they could try this again without the pretense of science and presence of death. He planned on forgoing the gloves and noose next time, but he did like the look of rope burns on Scout.


End file.
